Legend: The Days After Us
by Av H
Summary: The past had been forgotten and the present awaits. The story of how Levi, a Harvard professor, slowly comes to discover his own past, with the events of over a thousand years ago intertwined in between. And in the center of it all is Eren Jaegar, whose jumbled memories tell of the pain of loss and the insurmountable wait that he endures. Ereri/Riren, Reincarnation AU
1. The Traveler: Part 1

_PLEASE READ: This is actually relevant to the story. Alright, so before you begin reading, I know that everyone is here for the Ereri/Riren. Don't panic when they're not in the first chapter. Please stick with me, I promise you everything is relevant to the story line! This is a reincarnation fic, so it's told in two separate timelines, the old timeline, which jumps around sporadically (anachronistic), and the modern day timeline which is told in a traditional chronological and linear fashion. I will switch back and forth between the two timelines each chapter. Haha, more info on that after this story. ENJOYYYYY~~~~_

* * *

_A long, long time ago, _

_There was a city behind high walls. _

_Beasts, these walls guarded, _

_Until the day they fall. _

_A long, long time ago, _

_In a land far, far away, _

_Was a man strong as hundreds,_

_Who warred 'til th' break of day_

_A long, long time ago, _

_The walls crumbled and fell. _

_And out came all the children, _

_Deserting their old shell. _

_So, let there be song, my love, _

_To commemorate the tears, _

_Shed by the solitude which guarded, _

_The grave of children's fears. _

Chapter 1: Traveler

_Part 1_

Year 907

Historia was a small speck of a town a few days' journey to the south of a Rinaz1 River tributary, located on a flat stretch of land surrounded by rocky hills of green. The local trade was textile manufacture, and that was how most of the people got by. The men worked the fields, where the cotton and flax were nurtured with the utmost patience and attentiveness, season after season of laborious toil. The women spun and weaved the threads into fabric, the harsh work prickling and bruising their tender, young palms until they were old and coarse. And when the season was right, there would be flocks of traders, merchants who bargained for the textiles at the lowest prices possible. That was when the town was its most lively, for the high-strung din of merchants and weavers exchanging spit resounding down the town's little dirt streets made for the mouths of thousands.

But that was when the season was right. During any other season, its population was but a measly 2000.

The traveler had not planned on a prolonged stay in Historia, but the rain had come down hard for the third day in a row. Since the path he had to take to reach the Capital passed through the hills, he had no choice but to wait for the rain to stop. It was too dangerous to seek passage through the hilly terrain during and immediately after a downpour such as this. There would be mudslides at every turn of the road.

Nonetheless, the traveler was impatient. He had come up from miles and miles of rugged peaks in the south, and now he was close—so close to his destination, only to be deterred by a monstrous rainstorm that seemed to have been an ambush set by heaven itself. So for now, he could only sit and read.

The traveler had taken lodgings in a local home. The house had rough walls that failed to keep out the cold and too little space to call leg room, especially with the five children that the family supported. The food was bland and the water tasted stale. Even so, it was something, and the traveler was content (he had spent too many a night without a bed).

_Yes, for now, I can only sit here and read, _he mumbled inside his the wooden bed was unforgiving, and irritated his back no matter what position he sat in.

"Mister?"

The door creaked open as a young girl, no older than ten years old with short, lopsided braids sprouting from her head like beanstalks, scooted into the room carrying a tray containing a bowl and a piece of bread on the side.

"Mister, Mama told me to bring you your lunch." She gave him a dimpled smile and set the tray down on the table beside the bed.

"Thank you," he answered politely, then returned to his book. He had expected the girl to leave, but the book had caught her eye.

"What is it you're reading, Mister?"

He peered up again, carefully hiding his irritation behind steady eyes.

"_A Study of the Human Mind._"

The girl's eyes grew round like grapes.

"By Mr. Arlert?"

The traveler quirked an eyebrow. He had not expected the girl to be literate, let alone know Armin Arlert's works on human psychology. He decided to test the girl.

"You've read it?" There was no way she had.

"N-no, Mister. Haha, of course not," she laughed sheepishly. "I can only read a little."

"Ah." But the traveler would not let her go so easily. He was curious, and the afternoon was dull. "So how did you come by this book?"

"Umm…I…" He could tell that the girl was regretting ever mentioning the book by the way she shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. "I…well…if I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything once you leave this town."

"Oh?" The traveler set down the book to listen to the girl more intently. "By all means."

"Are you…a fan of Mr. Arlert's?" She was testing the waters with her question.

"Yes. Very much. I've read all his works. I am only rereading this one because I find it the most fascinating."

"Oh. Ok then." The girl seemed relieved. "Well…you see, Mr. Arlert showed me the book himself. He actually lives on the outskirts of town, right outside the cotton fields. The townspeople all know not to say anything, even though he's really well-known. Even us children."

The traveler shot her an astonished, albeit disbelieving, glance. "You are sure the man is Armin Arlert?" Armin Arlert had long since retired from the renowned Royal Academy's circle of prestigious scholars. There had been no new works of his published for nearly twenty years, nor had there been any general news of his whereabouts. For the traveler, who was barely over the age of twenty himself, Armin Arlert was more history than man.

The girl nodded, eager to defend her claim. "It's him, I swear! All the children go to his house every Sunday night to listen to his stories. I've known him since I was three years old!"

The traveler's brows furrowed at the thought. Armin Arlert—the respected scholar who wrote a massive collection of some of the most sophisticated and insightful studies on the social sciences from contemporary history to psychology— was living as but a simple old man who idled away telling children fairytales. It was, to say the least, rather unexpected.

" I'll…I'll take you to see him," the girl abruptly declared.

"Oh? You will?" The traveler decided to play along just a little longer.

"You don't believe me, right? I can tell, you don't believe me." The girl's tiny lips twisted into a pout as she crossed her arms in an uncharacteristically adult-like manner.

"Well, then. Take me to see him."

* * *

Outside, the rain had calmed to a mollifying drizzle. The girl led him across town and past the fields, just as she had described, and by the time they had reached the dilapidated outskirts (the woods in the distance were marred with several mudslides already), their boots had been reduced to nothing but slimy, mud-encrusted pieces of damp leather.

"There." The girl pointed out a weathered, brick-walled cottage concealed behind a cluster of trees.

The traveler followed the girl into the yard overgrown with tomato plants that had toppled over from its grower's neglect to harvest them. And then, there was a strange twist in his stomach. Something about this place was different. It was only a few steps before he reached the door when he realized that it was the smell.

Grass. A powerful, musty fragrance of grass that leaked from behind the door.

Before the traveler could reach the door, the girl had already stepped right up and gave it a few resounding knocks. "Mr. Arlert? Mr. Arlert, it's Mila."

A slight pause.

"Come in," was the weak reply from what sounded like a few rooms away.

With some difficulty, the girl opened the thickset door, then slipped inside. The traveler tentatively pushed the door open further and followed.

At first, there was only quiet. The traveler was sure that he was alone, like no other moment in his life. Never in his peaceful childhood spent on the free ranges of the southern mountain valleys or during his inexhaustible travels across the most treacherous peaks and the most fearsome rivers, had he been as alone as that moment when that door shut with a heavy thud from behind. He was sure that there had been nothing at all that could possibly have disturbed his solitude. It was just him, and the scent of musty grass, somewhere safe on the familiar mountain ranges in his memory.

Only when the moment eclipsed him did he find himself mistaken. There was not a blade of grass in sight. Instead, there were books. Books, in neat stacks, flanking the narrow hall, some rising all the way to the low, stone ceiling, threatening to topple.

The traveler's breath hitched in his throat.

There were so many books. He had never seen so many books gathered in a single place before. Books, after all, were rare items. To the poor, they were useless, worth as much as firewood during the winter. To the rich, they were coveted treasures for the valuable fragments of the world they captured within their thin pages. The traveler had been places poor, prosperous, plain, and wondrous, but he knew that all the knowledge he had gathered could not compare to any of the volumes of paper bound by string and leather within these stacks.

Meanwhile, Mila had already scampered down the hall and made a turn into a room at the end. The traveler trailed slowly after, pausing with each step to marvel at the multitude of titles that formed towers upon towers of text.

"Mister? Hurry up!" Mila poked her head out from down the hall.

The traveler smiled apologetically as he finally reached the end of the hall.

"What? Did you bring someone else, Mila?" The voice that spoke was frail, yet carried a certain harmony that rung true with the serene solitude.

"I apologize for the abrupt visit, Mr. Arlert." The traveler stepped in the room, and amongst the looming bookshelves sat a petite figure, hunched over the desk piled high with parchment and papers. The traveler was suddenly reminded of the gnarled bough of an ancient, willow he had come upon beside the road some years ago.

The figure turned until he was piercing the traveler with a composed gaze. His eyes were a noticeably light color—light, but faded. _Ah. They must've been blue or green when he was younger. Either blue or green. _

"Sorry, Mr. Arlert…I know you said not to tell anybody passing through…" Mila mumbled guiltily. "But he wouldn't believe me when I said you lived here…"

"That is quite alright, child." The scholar smiled at the girl, age crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "In fact, I'm rather glad you brought him to me."

The little girl puffed up her cheeks in defiance. "You lied, Mr. Arlert."

"Haha, you could say so. In that case, then, I apologize." Armin Arlert patted the girl's head, then once again fixed his gaze on the traveler. The traveler knew that that tranquil, mirror-like gaze was studying him, disassembling him cautiously yet scrupulously, like reversing a complicated puzzle. It was the most basic and original form of analysis known to man.

Armin Arlert said nothing. Instead, he turned back to the girl. "Mila, Mrs. Berg will be getting worried. It's time to go back."

"Huh? But I came all the way out here to see you…" Mila pouted.

"I know, and that's why I mustn't keep you for so long. Your mama needs your help around the house, too." He gave the sulking girl a last pat on her skinny shoulder. "Take care, now. Be sure to take care of your brothers and sisters, too."

"Yeah, I know, Mr. Arlert. You say that every time…Goodbye." With one last wave at the old man at the door, she left (and didn't forget to stick her tongue out at the traveler on the way out, just to prove her point).

As the door shut behind him, the traveler felt it again. Solitude. Tranquil solitude, the sensation of singularity. He raised his head and found Armin Arlert's pale eyes boring into his own. They were not intense, like they must have been years ago, and neither did they carry any inkling of malice or elation. They were only calm, just as the solitude and seclusion sheathed between the countless pages in this unnoticeable, brick house.

"It's truly an honor to meet you, Mr. Arlert. I'm a big fan," the traveler began with a cordial smile.

Armin Arlert remained silent to study him some more. The traveler held steady under his scrutinizing stare.

Only after a good five minutes did the elderly scholar finally say, as if in conclusion, "Forgive me for my rudeness. It's just that…Haha, you've really traveled very far, haven't you? Please, sit." He gestured to a roughly-carved chair pushed up against a bookshelf. The traveler nodded and pulled the chair over so they could sit across the desk from one another.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" Armin Arlert asked as soon as he settled, albeit awkwardly, into the chair.

"Twenty-two."

"Twenty-two, hm…younger than I had expected…and you have read my works?"

"Yes. They are fascinating."

The scholar gave the softest of laughs. "Thank you. I see you are a man of few words."

"I say everything that needs to be said, Mr. Arlert." A pause. "I've been travelling alone since I was fifteen. There is not much that one needs to say when one is simply trying to reach a destination." However, there was a spark of knowledge leaking from in those faded eyes that made the traveler certain there was much more that this elderly man in front of him needed to say, despite having said so much throughout his prolific life.

"I see…for so long on your own, and so young…In fact, I have an old friend who is a traveler like you. I wonder where she is now. It has been too long…An old friend, yes…I'm so sorry. Please excuse me. And, where did you say you hailed from? The south?"

"You have a sharp eye, Mr. Arlert. My homeland is the southern ranges. I was born and raised on a ranch in the mountains."

"A ranch…hmm…" Armin Arlert considered the idea for a moment. "That's an interesting occupation…"

"It's quite common, actually, especially in the south."

"No, no, I wasn't talking about that…excuse my being blunt, but…does your surname happen to be…ah, Smith?"

The traveler blinked, caught off guard. _How did he…I guess it's a common name but despite that…_

"Judging by your expression, I would say I guessed correctly?" The old man chuckled. "I do have to say, you resemble your grandfather, although you are still young."

"…Grandfather?" The word "grandfather" struck a tense nerve. Because even though his grandfather had passed long before he was born, the traveler could still remember distinctly the warnings his mother gave him as a child. _'Never ask about him again, nor speak about him, understand? He was a great man of his day, but it is no longer safe to speak about him. It is better you know nothing.' _

Armin Arlert's white brows pinched into a frown, sending wrinkles rippling across his forehead. "No? Was I wrong? Great Uncle then? Although he never mentioned having a brother…He can't possibly be your father…"

"I'm sorry, but…who is 'he' whom you refer to?"

"Erwin Smith, of course."

_Ah, that's right. His given name was 'Erwin.' _ _It really has been a long time since I've heard that name. _

"…Yes. He is my grandfather." The traveler could feel the cold, slippery grasp of portentousness gripe at his chest. Ever since he was young, this feeling that would revisit him when certain subjects were trespassed upon in his family. Certain subjects not to be discussed. "You know him personally, Mr. Arlert?" The traveler's throat grew dry. Nervousness had become a natural reaction after years of warily treading around the same "certain subjects."

"No need to be anxious, young man. We have much time at our leisure to talk, do we not?" The aged scholar smiled. He smiled with the sort of fatigued benevolence that was unforgettable to the eye. Then, he stood up, only to sit back down a few moments later after setting a chessboard on the desk between them. "How about a game?"

The traveler watched as the old man began to set up the pieces with knotted, leathery hands. "I do not know the game well," the traveler said, but did not complain as the scholar set up the black pieces for himself and the white for his guest.

"I'm sure you play just fine. Now. Please begin."

* * *

1 Rinaz- Proto-Germanic for Rhein, or Rhine.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own SNK. The awesome Isayama does.

Ha. First snk fanfic ever heehee. I hope you guys liked old!Armin. I really do try my best with characterizations.

The next chapter will be the modern timeline. Yes, Levi will be in the next chapter.

Regarding the grass reference: I've done some research on this and the "old book smell" is apparently grass with a hint of vanilla. So there's your imagery for Armin's house.

Thanks for reading! Comments, likes, suggestions, concerns, etc. all welcomed.


	2. Cleaning Season

Chapter 2: Cleaning Season

May 28, 2013

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Harvard University

"Professor? Professor. Professor Levi."

"What is it?" Levi tossed Petra one of his infamous "demonic" glares. He observed with slight satisfaction at the shiver that became physically traceable as it travelled down the nervous teaching assistant's spine. According to Harvard legends, it was said that Professor Levi of the Department of English was a man gifted with many demonic powers, one of which included petrifying victims with a single glower. Of course, these rumors weren't necessarily true, but Levi still reveled in the joy of the effect they had on rowdy, uncouth students who happened to fall in his unfortunate line of sight. Not to mention those forever-damned mortals who happened to disturb him while he was _cleaning_.

This was one of those moments, when Levi could take pleasure in the sheer wrath of power. Because, alas, he had been interrupted during the final phase of his pre-summer office cleaning.

He paused in the rhythmic, circular motion that he indulged in while he wiped his bookshelves to snap at the girl standing in his doorway. "Well? What is it?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Professor-"

"You damn well should be."

"-but there's a Ms. Zoe who demands she sees you this second. I'm sorry once again for disturbing you!" The hazel-haired assistance even mustered a wobbly little bow before she fled to take refuge in the safer end of the building.

Levi scowled, knowing exactly who and what was waiting for him precisely two hallways, three turns, and one glass double door down from his office: something that will hold up his cleaning routine even further.

"Shitty glasses..." Levi twisted all the dirty water out of the rag he had been cleaning the shelf with and hung it on the edge of the bucket. After washing and drying his hands thoroughly (via the restroom nearby), he rolled down his sleeves and strode out towards the main entrance, Medusa's intentions simmering dangerously in his steely eyes.

As he stepped outside the faculty building, the lukewarm air of summer grasped him gently at the shoulders. _Ah. Summer at last. _Levi was very certain that the man who had written "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate*" must have been severely delusional at the time of the poem's composition. There was absolutely nothing that could be compared to the freedom that summer offered after an entire winter of being barricaded in his house by incessant snowstorms. Freedom from the restrictive coats and scarves that made Levi feel like an oversized bundle of frozen limbs. Freedom from the constant need to wake up at ungodly hours to plow through disgusting layers of snow and half-melted ice. Freedom to leave his usual realm of lectures, essays, and Ivy League conundrum for somewhere with less fickle finesse.

However, he was interrupted once again as his irritation was just beginning to settle.

"Leviiii!"

Levi was only just able to sidestep Hanji's bear tackle.

"Goddammit. Can you be any less discreet?" Levi growled at the lanky woman, who was stumbling back over after nearly tumbling straight into a tree (she miraculously caught herself at the last moment).

Without even bothering to adjust her crooked glasses, she seized her friend urgently by the shoulders. "Levi! You're actually going to do it? _Please_ tell me you're not really going to-"

"Let go. Now."

"Oh. Sorry." Hanji quickly withdrew her hold.

"Thank you." Levi straightened out his tie matter-of-factly. "Now, this better be good, because I was in the middle of _cleaning_." He raised a quizzical brow at Hanji, who only grinned back shamelessly.

"Ha, right. Cleaning season. I forgot." She cleared her throat, finally understanding the cause for Levi's less-than-pleasant mood.

"Now get to the point, shitty glasses, or I'm walking away in three, two-"

"Ok, ok, ok! I'm getting to the point…so _why the fuck have you not told me you were going to the Wald der riesigen B__ä__ume?!"_Hanji's expression did a 180 degree flip-flop mid-sentence from ridiculous idiot to raging woman. Levi had seen her do this before—switching from one emotion directly to the next with no gap or transition in the middle—and he had to admit that it was one of her more impressive abilities.

And suddenly, it was Levi's turn to give indirect answers. "Ah. Right. That. I was going to tell you after I got back."

"When you get _back?_ You _know_ I'm doing field work in the area! Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped assembled a team of people. Or are you trying to tell me that you were going to go in there _alone?_"

"Yes, I _am_." Levi rolled his eyes, thoroughly annoyed. For the past few weeks, he had taken the utmost care to make sure Hanji didn't find out about his imminent expedition because this situation was precisely what he didn't want to end up in. And here he was, twenty-four hours away from his flight to Germany, thinking that he was in the clear, and in stormed Hanji, who had apparently cut her eight-hour movie marathon short just to come exacerbate him about the trip. _I swear, whoever tipped her off…_

"Oh! So you thought you could get away with it, huh?" Hanji crossed her arms in a very strict-mother-like fashion. This might be one of the few times in Levi's long and arduous years of friendship with Hanji that he had seen her so completely furious.

"I _was_ until Erwin tipped you off. And it was Erwin, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was Erwin, and you better be damn well thankful that he did, because he might've just saved your life."

"Tch." Levi could only blame himself for letting slip about his plans to Erwin. Erwin Smith might seem like a kind, collected, and trustworthy kind of man on the outside—what with his silver-tongued phrases and dashing smile—but he had the heart of a true lawyer, through and through. Somehow, after over a decade of knowing exactly what kind of person Erwin Smith was, Levi still occasionally fell for those glib, old tricks of his. Old, but effective, judging from the hefty amount he raked in yearly.

"-evi, are you even listening to me? I'm saying this isn't like those random college hikes you used to go on when you were a student. There are actual dangers in that forest that scientists haven't even been able to pinpoint!"

"Look, I appreciate your concern. But I can handle myself." This was one of those things that bothered Levi more than they should, people worrying over him that was. He was a perfectly levelheaded individual who could measure his own strength and abilities reasonably against those of others. Hanji and Erwin's concerns were unnecessary and unfounded.

He knew how to take care of himself, especially after years of hiking and camping excursions that he had begun to embark on since the tender age of sixteen. During his earlier years, he had scaled the Rockies, kayaked down the Colorado River, and biked cross-country from California to New York. And instead of settling down after he got himself a proper job and then a Ph. D, his little expeditions only grew more and more extensive. He began to seek out the more obscure or dangerous paths all around the world. The Matterhorn in Switzerland, the Laugavegur in Iceland, Mount Khuiten in Mongolia…By now, at the glorious age of thirty-four, Levi's mountaineering skills were considered excellent not only by amateurs but by professionals as well.

His feats had always been looked upon warily by his friends, who regarded them with admiration and trepidation, but no one tried to stop him. That was, until exactly one year ago, when he decided to go camping in Madagascar. Levi had been to the inland African safari once before, but that time he had been with a guide. Camping itself wasn't much of a difficult task compared to scaling snow-capped mountains with heavy gear on his back, but it had been his general inexperience with the unique environment that led to him badly injuring his ankle. He had to limp back twenty dangerous miles of marsh before he reached any medical help.

And it was for that incident that Hanji had gone nutcase on him. Apparently, she had decided to "put her foot down," whatever that meant. She kept telling him, "Levi, you could've died!", "You're getting out of hand!", "One day I'm going to wake up to the news title of 'Harvard Professor Plunges to Death Climbing Mt. Everest'!" In the end, Levi concluded that it was because she didn't understand. None of them understood, that he _had _to do this. He _had_ to be away somewhere, hiking treacherous roads and scaling vertical cliffs, when he had the chance. Not even Levi himself fully grasped the meaning. He just knew that he had to keep going.

So here he was, Professor of English at the prestigious Harvard University, getting lectured like a five-year-old on his own campus.

"I'm being serious here! Those forests are actually dangerous. Nobody knows exactly what's in there, but you've heard the reports about the-the Beast!" Her voice trembled in dangerous excitement.

"Oh, for Christ's sake. All that stuff about the Beast is just folklore they make up to scare children. You've been in there yourself, and now you're telling me _I_ can't go?"

"I was in there for field work, with a team of twenty people, half of whom were _armed with guns_. But since you bring that up…" Then, out of nowhere, her eyes lit up with a type of glee that could only be described as uncontainable exhilaration. "_I've seen the footprints myself!_ It's easily _two meters_ from heel to toe! What's more, it's _obviously humanoid_ in shape. JUST IMAGINE THE IMPRESSIVE SIZE OF THAT CREATURE! And _how_ is it able to keep itself upright? Or maybe it crawls?! What if-"

"Hanji." Levi made sure to interrupt her before she grew any more sidetracked. It was one thing to hear a short burst of anger from Hanji, but another to let her prance off into a long-winded rant concerning the oh-so-wondrous-and-fascinating latest obsession of hers, which, for the past five months, happened to be _Tier der riesigen B__ä__ume_, a mythical beast said to reside in a specific part of the western forests of Germany.

The legend of the Beast had been passed down for centuries in Western Europe, but no one had expected the creature to appear in frontline archaeological news a year ago, when traces of an enormous creature had been discovered in those very forests. Most notably, as Hanji had referenced, there were a several eroded concavities in the ground resembling the shape of an impossibly large human footprint. However, the fact of the matter was, the most recent footprint was carbon dated back to the tenth century, which indicated that whatever beast that had lurked in those woods was long dead.

Whatever the scientific facts though, the media had not wasted time in making the legend of the Beast into a new brand of pop culture. There were books, articles, podcasts, and even a movie that was scheduled for the summer of 2014. Frankly, Levi was quite fed up with all the students snickering at Beast GIFs on Reddit instead of getting their sore, Ivy League asses to class.

"Listen. Both you and I know that even _if_ the Beast had been real, disregarding all the biological hurdles it would first have to leap over, that it's now nothing more than a bit of fertilizer in the ground by now. So if that's your reason for forcing me to sit on my ass all summer watching puppet-faced news reporters spin up some pop art fairytale instead of trekking the forests in Germany, well, then I suggest you go take a good, long shit to rethink that argument," Levi concluded with a satisfied humph. He took a moment to congratulate himself on such an elegantly-phrased response, then turned his back on his friend and walked straight back up the steps to the Department of English.

"Wait-Levi! Wait!"

Levi could hear Hanji's distant shouts from the other side of the glass door fading to a buzz as he proceeded down the hall wearing a deadpan none of his colleagues dared to greet.

Alas. It was cleaning season.

* * *

Levi survived the rest of the day at a decent pace. He ended his last few lectures on Shakespearean comedies and literary theory with no particular ceremony, replied to the last batch of work-related emails, and (most importantly) finished wiping down and polishing every possible corner of his office. By the time he finally pulled up to his suburban driveway, he had every intention in mind to take an extended shower, eat up the last of the spaghetti in the fridge, then get to packing the rest of his gear.

Those were his intentions. Unfortunately, his intentions did not come to pass quite as he had hoped.

As he stepped out of the shower, Levi heard the dull screech of the phone in the kitchen. The caller ID monotonously announced that the call was from "Cell Phone, MA". He heaved a tired sigh and stretched his shoulders. _It better not be Hanji again…_

He swiped up the phone on the way to the refrigerator.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Levi. It's Erwin."

Silence.

"It's not about the trip."

"Oh. Well in that case, please continue." _Don't think I've forgotten you tipped Hanji off. I'm still going to get back at you for that. _Levi proceeded to shove the plate of spaghetti into the microwave.

"Do you happen to know a law student by the name of Armin Arlert? He happens to attend Harvard Law School."

"Armin Arlert? Like, the Medieval sociologist?"

"Haha, no. That's his actual name. He's an intern at my firm."

"I feel bad for the kid. His parents must have been quite the practical jokers."

"He says he knows you." Erwin decided to ignore that snide comment.

"I only teach literature and English, occasionally some foreign language classes on the side. How would I know a law student?"

"He's quite well-known on campus."

"Are you sure people aren't mistaking him for the sociologist?"

"No." Erwin chuckled. "Last March, he won a case that one of our best lawyers was about to lose. I saw it myself. The kid walked right up there and made the best appeal I've seen in years. He's the real deal."

"Ah. So he pulled a Legally Blonde. But what does it have to do with me?"

"I really have no idea, besides the fact that he insists on seeing you. I'm only doing him a favor."

"Well, tell the kid to try taking literary theory. Fall Term, English 199a. He'll receive two riveting hours of my lecture per week." He pushed around the hot noodles on his plate with his fork. Levi hated waiting for food to cool.

"Fine. But at least listen to his question."

"What question?" Levi tried forking some of the stuff into his mouth, but backed off at the faint sizzling he could still detect emanating from the sauce.

"He wanted to ask you 'do you remember Eren Jaegar?'"

_Eren Jaegar?_

"What?"

"That's it. 'Do you remember Eren Jaegar?'"

"...If this is a ploy to get me to not go, I don't quite get where you're going with it."

"It's not. That's what he genuinely asked me to—"

"Actually, Erwin…I don't feel very well. I'm hanging up now."

"Levi?"

"Bye, Erwin."

The receiver clicked into place. Then followed silence.

In actuality, Levi had lied. He wasn't unwell. Rather, he was just bothered. He could feel his foul mood crawling back into place as he shoved a few mouthfuls of noodle into his mouth.

'_Do you remember Eren Jaegar?'Eren Jaegar. Who in the name of William Shakespeare is Eren Jaegar? _

What an irritating question.

* * *

1 The first line of Shakespeare's Sonnet 18.

* * *

Well, this is chapter 2. Next chapter is back to the old timeline. Thanks for reading! Comment, like, suggestions, etc.


	3. Traveler: Part 2

**_This is the second and final part of Traveler, which will open the story up for all the events that follow. Sorry if the story is a bit slow at this point and lacking in Levi and Eren. I promise, it'll pick up with every chapter! Right now there are a lot of question marks floating around, but they will all be addressed in due time. Enjoy!_**

* * *

_Traveler: Part 2_

Year 907

The traveler had lied when he said he didn't know the game well. It had simply been quite some time since he had played. When he was younger, there was not one person on the ranch who could come close to defeating him at the game, and so, with no true opponents to play against, he had gotten bored and soon deserted the game. This was his first time touching a chess piece in ten years, but the rules of the game and the way to manipulate them were unexpectedly fresh in his mind. Or rather, they were only beginning to unwound.

"See, you play full well. I had the feeling when I saw you."

_Black knight moves to trap white bishop. White bishop, diagonal to the upper right, four steps._

"That I was good at chess?"

"No." Laughter. "Much more than that."

_Black pawn advances two steps. White rook moves three squares forward. _

"So, how exactly do you know my grandfather, Mr. Arlert?"

_Black rook traps white pawn. _

"Well, I was his subordinate."

"Subordinate?"

"Yes. In the army. You do know your grandfather was the commander of one of the three major military branches, right?"

"Ah…of course. I…it's embarrassing to say, but I actually had no idea. I only knew he was a soldier. The topic has been banned in my family, you see. I know very little of my grandfather and his exploits."

"Oh. That is to be expected, isn't it? But haven't you ever wondered? Haven't you ever guessed?"

"I…suppose I have…There's an old cape in the ranch that I came upon when I was younger. I didn't tell anyone about it, and I don't think anyone but Papa even knows it's there. I think it used to be part of a military uniform. The colors are faded, but it might have been green a long time ago. It has military insignia on the back, but I do not recognize it. It's not a branch of the military currently in existence, but…"

_Black knight takes white rook. _

"But?"

"I think…the insignia…belonged to the Scouting Legion. When I was younger, I dimly remember the same insignia being secretly passed around amongst children as a game…the adults would be cross every time they saw us drawing the insignia, which only made us do it more. The trend died out soon enough. After all, the Scouting Legion was only a fable."

"That's it." Armin Arlert looked up with an excited spark in his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, the traveler thought he saw blue.

"The…Scouting Legion?" _White bishop hovers uncertainly. _"So Grandfather was…the commander of the Scouting Legion?"

"Yes, exactly."

"And you, Mr. Arlert? You were…also part of the…Scouting Legion?"

"Yes, that's right. Haha, I see the look in your eyes now asking me 'wasn't it just a story'? And I'm afraid not, young man."

_White bishop moves diagonally backwards three squares._

"Then…all those stories about the Scouting Legion we hear as kids…were they all true?"

"Well, I don't know the stories myself, so I can't verify that they are true. I can only tell you what really happened."

The traveler said nothing. _White pawn moves forward two steps. _

"Don't be afraid to ask, traveler. You travel because you wish to see, no? But what use is there if you see but fail to question?"

_Black queen takes white rook. _

"…You are right…"

_White queen forward five squares to trap black knight. Black queen takes white queen. _

"Then…may I ask why you are here, of all places?"

* * *

_Match #1: Armin Arlert, victory. Match time, 24 minutes. _

* * *

"Did you know that this town is named after a good friend of mine?"

"Historia?"

"Yes. Historia was her name. Historia Reiss."

"The noble family Reiss?"

"Yes. She was an illegitimate child."

"Ah."

"But she was very kind. The people in this town are indebted to her. When people first settled here, the earth was not fit for farming food crops and the mudslides often killed people and livestock. Historia helped the people learn how to plant cotton instead of food to spin into textiles for trade, even though I doubt she herself had much experience in this area. I believe she salvaged what she could from books and experimentation. She continued to live here until she passed last winter."

"That is very unlike a noble."

"Haha. I thought you might say that. She was not raised a member of nobility, despite her birth. She was unfortunate as a child. I met her as a trainee in the military barracks. We were so young then, haha…Young man, what do you think is the value of truth?"

"Truth? Hmm..well, that depends doesn't it. There are some kinds of truth that settle conflict and there are some kinds that create them."

"Ah, yes, but there is also a third type of truth that is valuable simply in knowing."

"So, you are asking me, that is to say, 'what is the value of knowledge?'"

"That is one way of looking at it."

"Hmm…well, knowledge is a type of freedom, isn't it? In that case, I would say that it is something worth dying for."

Armin Arlert stayed silent as he pondered his words.

"Very well said, young man." The scholar gestured to the chessboard between them. "Would you like another match?"

The downpour continued for two more days. The traveler visited Armin Arlert each day to play games of chess. Each time, he came closer to winning. But each time, there would always be something else that he overlooked. Chess, as the traveler discovered, was somewhat of a sly competition. Black and white were only using variations of a limited number of methods—traps and sacrifices, for instance—to reach the same goal.

On the third day he spent with Armin Arlert, the old man was grim.

"The rain will let up tomorrow," Armin Arlert told the traveler. "I am certain of it. I have lived here for two decades and the longest rainstorms never last past five days."

"I see."

Silence.

"I haven't asked you yet, but where are you headed, traveler?"

"The Capital."

"Ah. How perfect."

"Excuse me?" The traveler was somewhat uneasy. Today, Mr. Arlert appeared so much more…

Armin Arlert remained silent a few moments longer. There was conflict in his graying eyes. Conflict, the traveler abruptly recognized, that was as ancient as humanity itself. The traveler was suddenly alarmed. He sprang out of his seat, fingers rigid against the sweat on his palm. "Mr. Arlert."

_Ah, that's right. "Sorrowful" is the word. He is so much more sorrowful. _The sorrow was deeply-rooted, even more so than his solitude.

"Mr. Arlert," the traveler repeated.

"Hm? Oh, I'm so sorry." The old man looked up at the traveler's anxious face, rather surprised that the traveler was now on his feet. "I was lost in thought." Armin Arlert smiled half-heartedly. "Please do sit down." The traveler did as was told.

"Now. There is a matter of grave importance I must discuss with you."

"Please, Mr. Arlert."

"Do you like books, Mr. Smith?"

"Of course I do. They are the foodstuff of man's knowledge. It is a pity they are rare."

"Yes, pity indeed." He sighed. "To tell the truth, I am so very glad that I met you, child. At just the right time, too. Because you see, as wonderful as the people of Historia are, it is difficult to find someone to treasure my collection for what they're really worth. So, I must ask you a great favor in keeping them safe for me. Many volumes in my collection," –he gestured vaguely to the shelves around him— "are what you would call 'banned,' you see. I do not wish for them to fall into the hands of destruction. In my old age, I no longer have much use for them, however I'm sure that you could put them to good use once you reach the Capital. You do intend to stay there, do you not? Travelers like you never have a true destination in mind unless they intend to stay."

"Yes, I do intend to stay, at least for some years."

"Then please, take them with you. Not all at once, of course, I really can't imagine the difficulty of _that_ trip, but please do take proper care of them and see to it that they are put to good use. I am sure you know what I mean."

"I understand. I humbly accept your gift, Mr. Arlert." The traveler stood again and bowed, clenched fists trembling as he waited to hear what was next.

"I thank you, from the bottom of this old heart." A pause as the line formed by the scholar's dried lips curled inwards severely. "There is one last request I must trouble you with."

"Please, Mr. Arlert."

"They are what you would call the last few scraps that this old man could contribute to the world." He bent down to take out what appeared to be a thick, leather-bound manuscript and set it on the desk. "It is my wish for them to be published, but my old legs can no longer carry me anywhere. So I'm afraid I will have to ask you to be my legs, young man. Please take this to the Capital and find a family by the name of Springer. They run a bakery between the north and northwest sectors of the city. They will instruct you further on what to do. But please do not publish this under my name. You may use an alias or your own name if you so wish, but do not use mine, for these works are rather…different from my usual fare, haha."

The traveler ran a finger intently down the cover of the manuscript. "This manuscript…it is your last work."

"Yes."

"Then I will do everything in my power to see it published."

A smile spread across Armin Arlert's face like warm water tracing his features. "Then allow this old man to thank you doubly." The traveler nodded and tucked the manuscript securely underneath his cloak.

"Now, traveler, before we say our farewells, what do you say to one final game?"

"Yes. But, before that…may I ask you one final question?"

"Ah, yes. You have been waiting to ask me, haven't you? I could tell. By all means, go ahead."

"How…How exactly were the Titans exterminated?"

The old scholar's face fell.

"I'm sorry. But I'm afraid we are out of time for that question." He seemed troubled as he squinted back down at the chessboard. "Now, please begin."

* * *

_Match #10: Armin Arlert, victory. Match time, 3 hours and 53 minutes. _

_In the end, I still lost the match. _

* * *

The rain let up the following day, just as Armin Arlert had predicted.

"Young man, you are leaving today?"

"I really have been delayed, especially now that I have urgent business to take care of. Thank you once again for your hospitality, Mrs. Berg." The traveler was strapping the belts around his knapsack in order to bind it tightly for the bumpy roads that were ahead. Over the years, this knapsack had become his only asset for survival.

"I don't mean to keep you, but do stay one more day. You must wait for the rivers to settle, or it will be dangerous. Just yesterday, there was a mudslide by the farms in the northern part of town. Two mighty good men were killed because of it." The middle-aged woman crossed her arms in a way that reminded the traveler of his mother on the ranch. "Now, I'm no educated woman, but if there's one thing I do know is this land. I'm born and raised here, and I know how it acts up around this season in particular. You can take my word that it will not be safe for travel until tomorrow morning."

The traveler hesitated, then finally put down the knapsack. "Alright. Then, thank you for your kindness, ma'am." _I would've charged recklessly onward before…but now, I have a job at hand. I can't risk my life so carelessly anymore…_

And with that, the matron left.

With a sigh, the traveler slumped back onto the bed, Armin Arlert's manuscript in hand. _I have to read through it at some point, so why not now?_

He opened the book, expecting to be immersed in studies of various fields of humanities for several hours. However…

"_Once upon a time, there was a land where the people knew the magic of the ancients…"_

_Once upon a time…_The traveler's frown only deepened as he read further on into the manuscript. _Once upon a time…Once upon a time….Once upon a time…_That was how each chapter began.

"…What?"

The traveler flipped through the manuscript, growing more frenzied with each page that flashed across his eyes. There was no explanation, no analysis, no dissection of information whatsoever. They were all…

"Just children's stories…I can't believe it…"

"Mr. Arlert?"

The traveler's voice echoed back to himself as he all but sprinted across the dilapidated yard.

"Mr. Arlert!" He rapped impatiently at the front door, but there was no response. "Mr. Arlert! There has to be a mistake! You've given me the wrong manuscript!"

No response.

He felt an unprecedented drop in his stomach. Something was wrong. Rather, there was a piece missing.

"Mr. Arlert? Mr. Arlert?!" He kicked open the door and dashed in, the manuscript still tucked under his arm as he reached the room at the end of the hall.

And in truth, he knew it before he saw. He knew it before he saw the gnarled and frail body, laid peacefully against the back of the chair, caught in an eternal slumber. He knew, because he remembered the flicker of conflict in those faded eyes. He hadn't understood it then, but he knew now that it was the struggle between this world and the next.

The traveler closed his eyes for a silent prayer, then, with each step heavier than the last, approached the body of what used to be the most brilliant mind of his day. _Ah, _the traveler thought to himself, _it was the end of an era after all. _

But a piece of parchment on the desk caught his attention. At first, the traveler had hopes that it was the late author's will, but upon closer inspection he found that it was a letter addressed to himself instead.

_Dear Mr. Smith, _

_ There is no mistake. _

_ Armin Arlert_

* * *

That day, as the sun set upon the cotton fields of Historia, several farmhands reported to have lent out a shovel to a young man who claimed he needed it urgently. The shovel had been returned, left on the doorstep of the tool shed, the following morning.

The next day, as the sun was rising, townspeople reported seeing a man in a black traveler's cloak leading a brown-speckled mare leaving the town in the northern direction.

In a month, a piece of shocking news spread like wildfire through the central circles of the Imperial Capital and beyond.

The great scholar hailed as a genius of his day and renowned for his studies in the social sciences, a man at the frontier of societal reconstruction during and after the Liberation, Armin Arlert, was dead.

* * *

_**That concludes Traveler. The next chapter will be back to Professor Levi's modern timeline (huehuehue) and then after that, well, you'll see. :P**_  
_**Like I said, there's lots of random stuff floating around for now (which aren't really random). I'm so sorry I killed Armin. He had a long and meaningful life and he is reincarnated so I hope that makes up for it.**_

_**Feel free to ask questions. Comment, like, etc I do try my best so tell me if there's anything that is confusing! (to your understanding of the given information, that is!)**_


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